Baseball
by iguanodonna
Summary: Like he always does, Cody ends up reflecting late at night about a baseball game he and Zack attended last year and why catalysts are important. This story contains twincest, and is appropriately rated M. Here's your disclaimer. Review if you like!


**A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** This is my first piece of Zack/Cody fiction. It's almost explicit, it is twincest, I would advise you don't read it if you're not into this sort of thing. I tend to write one-shot stories, because chapters get irritating to me. If you enjoyed this, please let me know! And if you didn't, I still would like to hear constructive criticism as to why. But be warned: if you flame me, even though there are plain as day warnings all over the place, then basically you're just a shitty human being. But otherwise enjoy, and thank you for reading!

- iguanodonna

Baseball.

Out on deck, things were so different. Especially at night, with the waves quietly lapping at the side of the gigantic ship. The gulls silent since the sun went down. The gentle rocking motion that after a time, couldn't be felt at all. There was no one else there, except for the occasional security guard that would waltz by and nod his head at Cody before moving on down the deck of the ship, wheeling through lines of chairs and obstructions in the glimmer of light provided by the moon.

It was so clear, and so quiet.

And still, Cody missed Boston greatly. He missed his friends from school, the few people that he could talk to and hold a meaningful, intelligent conversation with in the big world of high school. He missed the city during the autumn, the leaves changing and dying and falling to earth. The way they fluttered in the light breeze, deciding to give up on where they hung in the trees and desperately trying to touch the earth, just once, before death.

He missed the Tipton Hotel. Even if the ship was largely the same, same hallways and rooms and staff, he still missed the hotel and the lobby and the candy counter and everything that was there that made the place home.

There were many opportunities that came with sailing around the world - Cody could continue his studies while taking field trips when the ship docked. He could see countries all over the world - _consider colleges all over the world_ - and experience new ways of life. He was able to get out there and get himself some culture, as his grandmother would say it.

But there were experiences in Boston that Cody often reflected upon late out here at night, while the world slept, and when homework was finished, and when Zack was sleeping too hard to wake up and drag Cody into some form of mischief or another.

On a ship there were many more opportunities, but Cody always ended up thinking about the ones he had left behind.

*

Last year, by some miracle, their mother had landed a gig at Fenway park. She sang the Star-Spangled Banner during Game 7 of the ALCS - and she sang it well. Fenway Park lit up to see a Boston Native singing their country's song so beautifully. Graciously, the Tiptons had provided two tickets to the game for Zack and Cody. Carey hadn't minded, she was never as interested in baseball and was always ready to watch a game at home after a gig. She had insisted on the boys going to the game. This was 2007. They were fifteen.

As it had turned out, this was the game to end all games. Maddie had been talking about it earlier, with Zack at rapt attention with his elbows all over the candy counter, mentioning how all the locals that lived around her were planning on squatting on Landsdowne Street with their transistor radios, listening to the game and to the screams of the crowd, peeking into windows at bars to see the coverage that was obscured by the Green Monster.

Cody mentioned that they had scored tickets to the game and Zack had nodded. Maddie seemed jealous, but shrugged it off and pretended that she didn't care.

For some reason that he couldn't have understood at the time, Cody felt proud and triumphant. It was the look of disappointment on her face as she turned away, and it was the sideways glance that Zack had given him, so honest and clever and slightly dangerous, before he had flittered away to do something else. Cody had won Zack's attention.

It meant more to him than it should have.

*

At the park, under the lights and so far up front that they could *see* the exact form of Jason Varitek's ass underneath his gear and from where he was crouched behind the bat zone, Cody felt the exhilarated and careless freedom that he should have been feeling. That any teenaged boy should have been feeling when at the most important baseball game of the season, so far.

Zack wore his Papi shirt, his lucky #34 shirt that he barely washed unless he had to, along with his old trusty blue Red Sox hat. The one with the worn, red B embroidered onto the front. He wore it backwards, but the fact that he had worn both the hat and the shirt had told Cody expressly how much this meant to him.

And here was Cody, hoodie up to keep his head warm, without a sign of team spirit except for the tiny lucky lucky rookie Dice-K baseball card he kept in his wallet at all times, just in case. Cody couldn't read Japanese. It made no difference.

*

Later, they were told that they were shown on FOX a few different times during the game, all with the same look on their faces. So drawn into the game with their mouths hanging open, stinging with hope, desperate for some answers and closure and anything.

Truthfully, Cody felt like that all the time, but it wasn't like he could tell anyone. And especially not after the Sox had won.

*

The bottom of the ninth inning. Jonathan Papelbon was throwing, warming up, his name called as he walked out onto the mound. All hips. All movement. All seriousness. Cody studied the steely gaze in his eyes and let them wander, perhaps too much, before catching himself. Somewhere, the Dropkick Murphys were playing his signature song, blaring over the loudspeakers. Cody loved this song. Zack did, too. He knew the words and was singing.

When Zack became full of life, unable to sit down or focus on one single thing, Cody knew he was getting nervous.

There was an elbow in his side before Cody noticed that Zack was talking to him. "After this," he had said hurriedly into Cody's ear to make sure he had heard right, "we're gonna find a way onto the field." When Cody looked unsure, Zack regrouped and said, "no matter what."

*

It was during those times that Cody wondered if Zack could feel it - the tension, the strange and exciting and dangerous things that Cody felt. During this instant Cody felt like Zack had intentionally moved in that much closer. He had shuddered a bit, he had desperately wanted to hold on, and for a moment Zack did. Their eyes connected and Zack smiled that mischievous smirk just before sliding his eyes back to the game.

*

The entire field was on its feet. Cody was shaking, shaking, shaking with nervous excitement to the point where Zack had discreetly placed his right hand behind Cody's left elbow to calm him down. Papelbon with the pitch - Blake out to centerfield - (Cody was going to be sick, he was going to be sick) - Coco Crisp flying back, flying back, hand in the air -

The amount of noise that had erupted from the field shook Cody's entire body. Coco had the ball in his mitt, had fallen back, but had the ball in his hand for the last out of the series. The Red Sox, with an 11-2 lead, had won the pennant for the second time in three years. The second time came so easily after 86 years of waiting. Cody felt so young and inexperienced and out of the know. There were other people that were happier about this.

Older people, mostly.

They would be cheering with their families and jumping down onto the field and celebrating and drinking and -

Zack had pulled Cody close to him, from around the waist, screaming and smiling as Cody reflexively drew his arms around Zack's neck.

*

Sweet Caroline blared through Fenway Park.

Zack's hand slid up Cody's back and Cody's hands gripped Zack's neck.

_Good times never seemed so good._

Before Cody could judge the situation, Zack had kissed him passionately on the mouth, enveloping Cody's entire world with one beautiful motion. No one was paying any attention, not to the boys standing in their seats with the entire world around them screaming and jumping and living. Cody's hair was in his face and his hood blocked anyone else from seeing. He was unrecognizable.

_(So good, so good.)_

Zack pulled away and Cody didn't ask. Didn't need to ask. Zack took Cody's hand and pulled him away from the seats - luckily, they hadn't brought anything - and into the maze of the inner workings of Fenway Park.

It was funny, but they never did get onto the field like Zack wanted.

*

He was smiling like an idiot and he knew it - Cody couldn't help but think of the song lyrics as Zack pulled him into corners, against walls, touching him and kissing him and cackling with the excitement as people rushed past in blind, haphazard fury. Zack's hands found the curve of Cody's face, found the swing of his hips. It was either one of them in the corner or the other, no one could tell anything.

This was so reckless and dangerous but damn it all, Cody wanted _more. _

_Warm, touching warm - reaching out - touching me, touching you…_

"Zack," Cody pleaded after the sixth time this had happened, somewhere near Yawkee Way. People were gone by now. The game had gotten out an hour and a half ago, yet here they still were. Cody wanted more, needed more, but this just wasn't cutting it.

He wanted all of Zack right now, or he just wanted to go home and forget it.

Cody looked out among the empty walkways. He was trying to find the way out, hopelessly. Why hadn't he explored Fenway when he got the chance? While he wasn't paying attention, Zack's hands snaked around his waist, coming in from the back. Zack was so close. Zack was _right there. _Zack was all Cody could think about and as Zack kissed his neck, sucked his neck and left marks that would be there in the morning, Cody moaned without thinking. Zack's hands slid further down and Cody stopped thinking entirely.

Well, not entirely. His brain switched into autopilot and he pulled Zack away from him, feeling blood rushing from his head directly to his cock. Pulled Zack into the men's room just near the Yawkee exit.

Somewhere, the Dropkick Murphys started singing about Tessie bringing the Red Sox home. Al Barr's voice crooned and the bagpipes started and Zack said under his breath, "I love this song."

In the men's room, Cody locked the main door before Zack pulled him by the hips to the one stall furthest back. Cody repeated Zack's name, urgently, Zack pulling the door closed and locking it just before pushing Cody less than gently up against the cold metal of the door and the lock, clutching the side of his face, and kissing him again.

This time there was nothing being held back. At least, nothing that his 15 year old self could picture.

*

Cody recalled seeing his hoodie and his t-shirt lying somewhere on the tiled floor, freshly cleaned after the maintenance staff thought everyone was gone. Cody recalled Zack's hands on his stomach. On his chest. Cody helped Zack remove his shirt, sliding the words ORTIZ off of Zack's back and pulling him in so close until their hips touched, until Cody could feel how hard Zack was, just as hard as him, and until Cody moaned and slid his hands down to Zack's ass.

"Cody," moaned Zack at the twin's insistence, "where the hell did this come from?" At this, Cody chuckled throatily, tenderly biting Zack's neck while his hands deftly undid Zack's belt and the zip of his jeans.

God, did Cody want this. He'd been so quiet, and so much less demanding. Sure, it had seemingly come from nowhere, and it might have come as such a shock to anyone else, but in that moment he was _sure _that Zack could understand. And as it turned out, Cody was right. Zack knew all along. He had always known.

They just needed a catalyst to get things moving, was all, like the Red Sox victory, just to get _something-_

"Stop thinking," ordered Zack breathily, seeing the look on Cody's face, and he obliged, finding Zack's cock and feeling it heavy and hard in his hand. Zack's hand fumbled with Cody's jeans, but in thirty seconds it was figured out, and just as it dawned on Cody, he realized that he was definitely jerking off his twin brother, and that Zack was doing the same.

And only when Zack frowned just slightly did Cody realize why. "Spit," Cody said without thinking, and they both did, each into their palms before going back to work, before kissing and smirking and _breathinglaughingwhimpering _into each other's mouths. Cody moaned with his back against the stall door and Zack dropped his head onto Cody's warm shoulder. Jerking off someone else was backwards and upside down and so different yet, strangely, so familiar. Their bodies were so different, but so familiar.

It felt like they should have always done this together. It felt like they belonged together like this.

It felt so natural and complete that when Cody came, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, swearing in a way that was entirely unlikely of Cody, Zack came right with him, his other arm circling around Cody's waist and repeating a chorus of _fuck_s. There was a mess of spunk and hormones but neither Cody nor Zack let go, not for at least ten minutes. Zack kissed Cody again, tenderly, the way Cody wanted him to, and after that they cleaned up, fixed their belts, and put their shirts back on without a word.

Mom would be waiting for them, after all.

On the way home, Zack sat extra close in the back of the Tipton limo, even though they both had room to spread out. The driver had wondered where they had gotten to, being so late, but Cody came up with a story about meeting the team last minute and no questions were asked.

They slept in Zack's bed that night, Cody curled up against his chest, with Zack's arm slung around his waist as carelessly and as naturally as if they'd been doing this all their lives.

*

That was October 21st. That was just over a year ago, Cody thought as the breeze picked up over the metal railings of the ocean liner. Things had been steadily the same since, but on a ship, things were different.

There was less time to act, and more time to reflect. Cody always thought of things like this late at night.

With one last look at the murky ocean just below him, Cody went back to the room they shared and, instead of his own bed, crawled into Zack's with him. Zack yawned and kissed the space between Cody's ear and neck while accommodating his twin brother. "Still thinking'?" he asked sleepily. Cody answered a simple yes that Zack more than understood.

"You can think later," Zack replied thoughtlessly, his hands curling around Cody's body, his face nuzzling into Cody's neck. "So just go to sleep."

And while he was loath to admit it, sometimes Zack did have a point. He could think later, during the day. Tomorrow he could think about the way Zack's hair tickled his neck, and the way his hands felt so comfortable and familiar, and the way the heat generated between the both of them was warmer than any comforter on the ship.


End file.
